


Untitled

by SeashellDestihell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x04, Bad coping mechanisms, Drug Use, Episode Related, only deancas if you squint, season 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeashellDestihell/pseuds/SeashellDestihell
Summary: Dean deals with being told to be less cranky and less of a dick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Episode Coda I wrote after watching s12e04, American Nightmare because the episode made me really mad. Sensitive Dean fan writing ahead danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Turn back!

They arrive at the bunker just before dawn.

“Hey why don’t you take the first shower, Sammy?” Dean suggests with a slap on the back. “No offense, but you really stink, dude.” Sam laughs and shoves him away.

“Yeah whatever, jerk. Don’t stay up too late moping around,” he calls over his shoulder and heads down the hall to the bathroom to do exactly as suggested. Dean watches him until he turns the corner, then turns around and heads to the kitchen. There’s still a full bottle of hunter’s helper in the cabinet where he left it, so he grabs it and heads back to his room.

~

“So get this,” Sam says, announcing his presence as he enters the kitchen the next morning. Dean hums through his mouthful of Lucky Charms to show he’s listening. “A man in Kentucky’s been reporting stolen goats for almost a year now. I think we might have a bona fide chupacabra case here; interested?” Dean finishes chewing slowly to give himself more time to think.

“Any human deaths?” he asks in as neutral a tone as he can manage.

“Not yet,” Sam says with a shrug and props himself against the kitchen doorway. “But we should take care of it just in case. Besides, I’ve never worked a chupacabra case before.”

“It’s a bit East for a chupacabra, don’t you think?” Sam frowns at Dean, taking his eyes off his tablet for the first time this morning.

“Dude, what’s your deal? I thought we made a deal that you would stop acting so cranky and suspicious of everything. Have you forgotten that already?” Dean sighs and gathers his dishes.

“Sorry, man. You’re right. It sounds like our kind of thing. I’ll go get packed and we can head out in 40.” Sam’s furrowed brow evens out and he smiles. “You good to drive?”

“You want me to drive?” Sam asks skeptically.

“Just thought I’d offer,” Dean says with a shrug. He drops his dishes in the sink and runs hot water over them for a few seconds. “’sides I could use a few more minutes of sleep on the way out there.

“Yeah, I would—Dean, I would love to drive.” Dean nods and slaps Sam on the shoulder on his way back to his room.

“Great. Meet you by the car in 40.”

~

“Dean!” Sam calls for the fifth time, sighing when Dean finally jerks awake. Dean groans as he unsticks his face completely from the window and wipes drool from his cheek.

“Ugh,” he groans and cracks his neck, “we still in Kansas, Toto?”

“No, not even close.” Sam frowns at him from the driver’s seat. They’re stopped at a gas station off some interstate, but Dean can’t quite read the name from where he’s seated. “Dude… you slept for four hours; are you ok?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean says with a shrug.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Sam asks, tone quiet and so goddamn accusatory Dean has to fight the urge to sock him in the jaw.

“Like a baby.”

“Dean, you know if—” Dean grits his teeth and takes a steadying breath.

“Yeah, I know, man. Thank you, I mean it. I’m just getting old, I guess.” Sam looks doubtful and maybe a little annoyed that Dean interrupted him. “Listen, did you pump yet? Why don’t I go in and pay? I gotta take a leak anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Pump number… 7, right? You want a water or something?”

“Water sounds good.”

“Great. Be right back.”

Dean strolls easily through the glass doors of the gas station and up to the counter. There’s a reedy, teenage-looking kid behind the counter playing on his cellphone.

“Hey,” Dean greets easily making the kids startle and blush bright red. “Sorry, pal, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He hands over his card. “Pump 7, please.” The kid nods and scans his card. “Thanks,” Dean offers as he takes it back, then heads to the back of the store to the restroom.

It’s dirty as all hell, but after years on the job, he barely even notices. Dean slips a small orange bottle from his coat pocket. Well, years on the job and a little good old fashion hunter’s helper. He pops the top off easily and shakes a couple pills into his hand; downs them with a handful of water as a chaser. Dean watches his face in the reflection of the mirror above the sink stretch into something like a smile.

Emotionally void. He can do this.

He shoves the bottle back into his pocket and washes his hands before going back out into the store and grabbing some supplies. He’s not hungry, but he knows Sam will start to bitch if he doesn’t eat something, so he snags a couple bags of chips on his way to the fridge for water and calls it a success.

~

The case in Kentucky is open and shut. It is a chupacabra that had somehow gotten separated from its pack. Dean watches Sam gun it down and wonders vaguely if this is even really their jurisdiction. The poor thing was only eating goats—same as any wolf, really. I mean, sure, sometimes they go a little crazy and take a kid, but still… how is that still any different than a hungry wolf? What are they, exterminators now? He shakes his head a little to clear the medically induced fog, and shoulders his shotgun. Whatever. Case complete. Time to head back home.

~

Cas is leaning against his crappy car which is parked out front when they get back to the bunker.

“Heya, sunshine,” Dean greets easily, stepping out of the impala and leaning his arms against her sun warmed roof. It took a little adjustment, but after five days on the pills he’s starting to float through the days again. He hasn’t even thought about texting Mary back since that first time, which is probably a good thing since his phone had vibrated a handful of times while they were on the road. “Surprised to see you; you wrap up things with Crowley and Lucy already?” Castiel frowns.

“I texted you several times telling you I was coming back to the bunker to research while Lucifer was trapped at the bottom of the ocean. I thought that even if you weren’t responding to my texts, you must have been getting them.” Dean nods along. Not Mary, then. That’s fine, too.

“Yeah, ‘course. You wanna pull into the garage?” Dean asks to distract both Sam and Cas, who he can feel staring at him. Castiel nods, hesitantly, and Dean nods back. “Cool, just follow Sammy then. I’m gonna head in and get started on dinner.” He softly shuts the car door and ambles toward the entrance of the bunker. Dean listens idly to the sound of Castiel’s door squeak and slam and the sound of his engine firing to life while he unlocks the bunker. He steps through the door and sighs in relief. He doesn’t have much time before Sam and Cas make their way up through the garage, but Dean takes a minute to lean against the closed door and breathe deeply. He pops two pills and swallows them dry. He can do this. It’s been nearly a week and he hasn’t annoyed Sam once. He can _do_ this. Why should Dean even be worried? Cas is much easier to please than Sam’s ever been. This will be a cake walk.

~

“Dean, are you… alright?” Castiel asks from the kitchen doorway. Dean throws a smile over his shoulder, but keeps focused on washing dishes.

“’course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Castiel says, advancing into the room, “for one thing your mother just left.” Dean smiles down at the dishes in his hands, happy that through the layers of medication it only feels like a dull throb of pain rather than feeling like he’s getting his heart carved out with a particularly rusty melon baller.

“She needed her space,” he replies with a shrug. Isn’t that the lesson he was supposed to learn on the Magda case? And if so then why is Castiel still staring at him like that?

“Dean,” Castiel says in that way he has, cocking his head like he does. “Just because your mother had her reasons doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” Wait, what?

“Uh, yeah, Cas? It kind of does? My feelings being hurt—or whatever fifth grade girl nonsense you want to call it—was selfish. I wasn’t giving mom the benefit of the doubt. Of course she’ll come back. I just have to man up until then.”

“Dean,” Castiel pauses while Dean keeps scrubbing. “Dean, look at me.” Dean sighs, gently places the dish in his hands on the counter, and turns to face Cas.

“Lucky you’re easy on the eyes, angel,” he teases, but it just makes Castiel frown more so he shuts up for now.

“Having emotions is human,” Castiel tells him while giving Dean his undivided, soul-deep staring attention. “Despite what you have been taught, emotions are not specific to one end of the human gender spectrum.” Dean just smiles at him and nods. If Castiel needs him to hear this, Dean can hear it. Dean’s so fucking high right now he thinks he could probably listen to his mom lay out all the ways Dean didn’t match up to his heavenly image end-to-end and he’d just smile through it. Maybe even say thank you afterwards.

“OK,” Dean says and turns back to the sink.

“OK?” Castiel asks, clearly taken aback. “You’re not going to fight me about this?” Dean shrugs.

“Why bother?” he says honestly and shuts off the water. Castiel places a hand on his shoulder and Dean goes with the movement when Castiel applies pressure to turn him.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Castiel tells him honestly, “but this isn’t like you, Dean.” Dean wants to laugh or maybe cry, but those are distant emotions; it almost feels like somebody else entirely is having them and Dean’s just watching it happen.

“Cas, do you really think I’m that much of an asshole, man?” Castiel remains silent. Dean purses his lips and nods. “O-kay, I guess you do. That’s fine. I deserve that.”

Whatever he was expecting—a sock in the jaw maybe—Dean doesn’t expect Castiel to pull him into a hug, but that’s exactly what Castiel does. He presses himself to Dean and holds on tightly like he did when he first learned Dean was alive.

“Hey, hey, Cas, I’m here,” Dean says awkwardly.

“But you’re not are you?” Castiel says, face pressed into Dean’s shoulder so hard his words come out muffled.

“Wha—I’m literally right here, dude.” Dean pokes Castiel in the arm to demonstrate and giggles. Castiel pulls away with a sigh and reaches into his trench coat pocket. When he pulls out Dean’s little bottle of pills, Dean feels like the room just shrank a couple sizes. “That’s not—”

“I got these from your coat pocket,” Castiel tells him, staring Dean in the eye and daring him to lie. Dean sighs.

“Look, it’s only for a little while. Sam’s right. I’ve been letting my… my _emotions_ get the better of me on cases and it’s affecting my judgement.”

“Dean, burying yourself in pills isn’t the answer.”

“What the hell do you know, Cas?” Dean spits, anger successfully gripping him for the first time in days. “You weren’t there. A kid almost died because of me— _did_ die—I killed her brother, Cas, that’s on me. Forever. Me and my stupid obsession or whatever with not giving people in this family space.”

“Her brother dying is on you alone?” Castiel deadpans and the anger leaks out of Dean to be replaced by confusion.

“Yeah? I’m the one who told Sam we should check out the witch instead of the ghost angle.”

“So it was a ghost, like Sam thought?”

“Well… no, Cas, it was a little more complicated than that.”

“So you and Sam were both wrong?”

“I mean, _technically_ , but—”

“And Sam, did he offer to go with you to check out the witch?” Dean groans.

“No, Cas, obviously—”

“So you were both wrong and you both decided to split up.”

“I—I—I should have listened to him, though, Cas. You don’t get it.”

“Why? How could you have known Sam would be right?”

“I didn’t, but I shouldn’t have just left him there. Alone.”

“And he shouldn’t have let you go to the witch alone! What if you had been right, Dean? Then Sam would have let you charge in against a magical creature alone.”

“Cas, it’s not the same—”

“Yes it is!” Castiel shouts and Dean falls silent. Dean feels exhausted; a side effect of the drugs or feeling intense emotions for the first time in days, he doesn’t know which.

“Please,” Dean begs, “just tell me what you want me to say, Cas. Whatever it is—I’m sorry; I won’t do it again; I understand—whatever it is I’ll say it just… tell me what to say here. Please.” Castiel sighs and hugs him again. Dean wonders if the angel will ever do it enough times that it stops surprising him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Castiel says. The hugging is weird, not something Dean’s used to, but the talking without having to face each other feels nice, safe. Dean thinks he could learn to appreciate it.

“You don’t—”

“No, I didn’t mean to upset you. And please don’t tell me you’re not upset, because I know you are. I can see your soul, Dean; I know there are private wars going on in you. I didn’t mean to add to them, merely to express my distrust of your current coping mechanism.”

“I’m tired, man” Dean admits, ducking his face until his nose is smashed up against Castiel’s hairline. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to think anymore; what I’m supposed to… emotions aren’t my thing.” Castiel makes a noise of dissent.

“You’ve been taught that emotions aren’t you’re thing; that doesn’t make it true.” Dean huffs.

“Fine, Dr. Freud, whatever you want to call it. Point is I’m just… so tired all the time. I’m tired of everyone leaving me and acting out when they do even when I know I deserve it. And if I’m not tired I’m angry, which just makes me more… tired. I like not feeling things, Cas. This is the happiest I’ve been in days. Please don’t make me go back.” They stand there in the kitchen, clinging to each other more than hugging at this point, in silence for several moments.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Castiel tells him honestly, “but it’s ok to feel things—even if those things are anger and disappointment at your situation. You deserve good things, Dean Winchester.”

“Then why did she leave me, Cas?” Dean asks, voice small. He buries his face in Castiel’s hair and fights down the urge to cry.

“Your mother is her own person. Her decision was not based on you. It couldn’t have been: she doesn’t know you yet.” Dean fights down the retort that Sam and Cas know him and they don’t seem to have a problem leaving him and tries to accept the encouragement.

Castiel freezes, then pulls away. “Sam is coming,” he informs Dean, who scrubs at his face in an attempt to look normal, “The pills have to stop. You’re putting yourself and Sam at risk by using them.” Dean nods. It’s not that he agrees, but what else can he say? Cas has them and he probably wouldn’t give them back if Dean asked, anyway. He definitely loses his chance to ask when Sam walks into the kitchen.

“Is there an ice cream?”


End file.
